Tables Turned
by Loves-To-Write-Ready-To-Listen
Summary: Wilson!Sick VERY STRONG HouseWilson FRIENDSHIP. Wilson's suffering heart attacks, and House is racing the clock to find out what's wrong. House can't imagine a world without Wilson but at this rate it doesn't look like he has very long left.Pre S3 finale!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **First House fanfiction. Please be relatively nice. Criticism appreciated.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own House.

**Tables Turned**

It wasn't the sun that woke Gregory House up, because the sun wasn't up yet. What woke him up was the insistent banging on his door, at two A.M. House covered his head with a pillow but the pounding continued.

"HOUSE!" he heard a familiar voice call. "OPEN THE DOOR!"

Now, House was _upset. Why is Wilson waking me up in the middle of the night? He has a key!_ He thought. "USE YOUR KEY WILSON!" he shouted.

House waited a few moments and then was slightly surprised when he heard Wilson's response. "House… I can't…" Wilson answered. Now, House was curious and so, he dragged himself out of bed and to the door. He opened it, and was immediately shocked.

James Wilson was leaning against the doorframe, covered in a layer of cold sweat, his right arm cradling his left and his breathing short. "About time." He coughed.

For a moment, Wilson thought he saw concern dash across House's face, but as quickly as it had appeared it was gone. "What the hell is wrong with you? Get inside!" House ordered, "Are you high? Drunk? Did you drive here?"

Wilson shook his head feebly, collapsing onto House's couch. "How did you get here then?" House demanded.

"Walked." Wilson wheezed.

"YOU WALKED?" House exploded, "You could barely stand! Let alone walk anywhere! You id-" His rant was cut off.

"House…ambulance." Wilson gasped.

With amazing speed for a cripple, House reached his phone and waited impatiently for someone to answer. "Lisa Cuddy, Hospital Administrator." He told whoever was on the line. Catching Wilson's confused look, he explained, "She said she was working late tonight, which means she hasn't left yet, this will be faster." He tapped his left foot restlessly. "Cuddy?" He asked. "House. Ambulance my house. NOW." He waited a moment for her response, before he responded, "No… it's not me. It's not my leg!" he glanced at Wilson's face that was getting paler by the second. "Shit." He cursed, "Stay with me, DAMNIT. STAY WITH ME WILSON! DON'T YOU DARE PASS OUT ON ME JAMES!" He shouted, hoping the first name would keep Wilson awake.

On the other end of the line, Cuddy was confused. She had heard House scream, many times in fact, but not in that tone before. Suddenly the name registered. _Oh. crap._

"Did you say Wilson?" she asked.

"YES. AMBULANCE!" He reminded, as he hung up. Glancing again at Wilson he realized that he was no longer hearing any gasps or wheezes. "Shit!" he swore again, tossing his cane away and limping over to Wilson. He knelt beside the couch. He placed his fingers on Wilson's neck, trying to get a pulse and put his ear to Wilson's slightly open mouth. The weak pulse scared House and he still wasn't getting any sound. Placing both hands on Wilson's chest he pumped fifteen times, and then tilted Wilson's head back breathing into his mouth, and carefully monitored the rises and falls of Wilson's chest.

Wilson's sharp intake of air indicated he was breathing on his own. "That's a scary sight." Wilson said hoarsely, as his eyes flickered open to see House bearing over him.

"Stop talking." House ordered, "Concentrate on breathing, so I never have to do that again, three deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth." Wilson did as he was told, and House finally heard the sounds of sirens racing down his street. Using the furniture to maneuver he made his way to the front door, opening it for the paramedics.

They rushed in, ignoring House completely as he watched them distrustfully, and lifted Wilson onto the gurney and back out to the ambulance. House shouted after the older-looking EMT, "Hey! I'm coming with!" He managed to grab his cane and scramble out of the apartment.

"There's no ramp." The EMT replied snottily, "It's not a cripples ride for free vehicle." He obviously knew House from somewhere. House glared at the man, swung his cane and hit the man in the calf, causing the EMT's leg to give out. It gave House just enough time to clamber onto the vehicle. Then House heard a funny noise, he immediately turned to face Wilson, and to his surprise Wilson was laughing, or trying to laugh. His breath was ragged and he began to cough, obviously struggling to breathe on his own.

Rolling his eyes, House grabbed the oxygen mask and ventilated, before the young paramedic had even noticed Wilson face change from chalk white to gray. Now, they were soaring down the road, sirens wailing, lights flashing, and House had some time to lecture Wilson.

"Where did you walk from? It was stupid. Have you been eating something different? What caused this? It was sudden, you were fine earlier. You're healthy. So… why this?"

Wilson shrugged, hissing as pain shot through his left arm and chest and muttered, "Chest…hurts…"

"That's kind of expected. You're having a heart attack."


	2. Chapter 2

When Wilson awoke, he was confused. This place wasn't his hotel room, the bed was much too small, yet, the fact that it was a bed proved that he wasn't in House's apartment either. The walls were a pale yellow, the sheets a pale blue, and the snoring coming from the chair beside his bed, was definitely the most familiar thing of all. Wilson was in the hospital. Now, he wished he knew why.

"House!" He whispered, assuming it was either very late or very early, "Hey House! Wake up!"

"Ah, you're awake Sleeping Beauty... Well, the sleeping part was true anyway..." House replied, opening his eyes slowly.

"House!" Wilson interrupted, "Why am I in the hospital? How long have I been here? What time is it? How long have I been asleep for?" Wilson's questions dragged on.

House glanced at his watch, and answered, "You had a heart attack, hmm, you should remember that...

"I do...sort of." Wilson admitted.

"You've been in the hospital for about 2 hours and 17 minutes. Asleep the entire time, and it is now 4:32 am." House finished. "Now it's my turn to ask the questions. Why did a healthy guy like you have a heart attack? Where were you, before you stumbled to my place?"

Wilson racked his pounding head, for memories of the previous night, "I was at a bar..." he stated slowly.

"Why were you at the bar? Woman problems?" House teased.

When Wilson didn't reply, only stared blankly at the ceiling, House smirked triumphantly, "Aha. I WAS right."

Wilson sighed, "Weren't we trying to figure out why I had a heart attack?"

"But this is much more fun!" Whined House, "Oh yeah. Heart attack. I'll go see if Cuddy'll let you be my patient."

House limped into Cuddy's office, and opened his mouth to speak.

"No." Cuddy said immediately.

"But you don't even know what I wanted." House fake-pouted. "I want to be Wilson's doctor."

"No." Cuddy repeated, "He has a doctor, the ER doctor who admitted him, and he doesn't have a mysterious case. He had a heart attack, and well that was unfortunate, with a little rest he should be fine."

"You're saying that... a healthy, fairly young, doctor who eats right and exercises can have a heart attack for no reason?" House questioned, "And that's not a case?"

"I didn't say without a reason, check family histories. His grandfather died of a heart attack." Cuddy informed him.

"It's Wilson." House stated, "I don't need to check the family history. I know it off by heart; he's bored me with it enough. Besides, his grandfather was a fat, lazy man. That accounts for his heart attack, but not Wilson's."

Cuddy sighed, and took a deep calming breath, "That may be so, but House, Wilson doesn't have a case."

At that exact moment, both Cuddy's and House's pagers went off. Instantly, Cuddy looked at hers, while House took his time.

"Wilson." He muttered, moving as quickly as possible, out of Cuddy's office and towards the elevator. Cuddy followed, but not being a cripple she was not trapped waiting for the elevator and flew down the stairs.

When House finally reached Wilson's room, he was worried (not that he would ever admit that) to see all the people in the room: at least three nurses and Cuddy. Cuddy was shouting orders, while Wilson thrashed around on his bed.

"No!" Wilson screamed, knocking away the nurses attempt to sedate him. "You're all hurting me." House cringed as he heard the beeps heart monitor increase in speed and volume. "Go away!" Wilson's breath was ragged and he was once again paling, but he wouldn't let anyone touch him.

"Anxiety." House announced. "A symptom, of yet another attack." he walked to Wilson's bedside. "Wilson, hey, listen to me."

"House!" Wilson exclaimed, "Help me! They're going to hurt me." 

"They're not going to hurt you. C'mon, you know that. You need to calm down. Breathe. Remember? I said no more CPR. That was nasty." House nodded to one of the nurses and she quietly approached Wilson's other side. "You're having another heart attack. We need to figure out what's wrong with you, and we can't do that with you moving around. Then we will hurt you. So stop, okay?" Maybe none of the nurses caught it, but Cuddy heard that slight change in the tone. House was still being sarcastic and well, his normal self, but it there was a touch of something. Concern? No way.

However, Cuddy needed to focus on the situation occurring right now. House's voice had calmed Wilson enough so the nurse could give him the ativan. Cuddy watched all of the nurses like a hawk; she didn't want a mistake that would make her need a new Head of Oncology. While the nurses dealt with the problem, she walked outside of the room, and leaned against the wall, her head in her hands. The clicking of House's cane approached her, "Hey, Cuddy. Two heart attacks aren't normal, are they? Now can he be my patient?"

Shakily, Cuddy looked up at House, "Yeah. He can be your patient," she agreed, choking back tears that were threatening to spill. House turned and hurried back to Wilson's side, "And House... please solve this fast."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Own nothing, except the twisted ideas the form in my head. Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed, I will get around to replying, I promise, and thanks especially to Kim, my wonderful editor, and Rose my [and Hugh Laurie's biggest fan.

* * *

"Healthy, 30-something year old, eats right and exercises, why would he be having heart attacks?" House asks as he throws his subordinates each a blue file, a file he didn't need.

Cameron was the first to speak, "Well, it says here, that his father died, after suffering a heart attack."

"I know that!" House said exasperatedly.

House knew? That was odd. Usually, House left the histories up to Cameron, herself. She looked up at her other silent coworkers. Chase's jaw hung open, his eyes wide with shock, and Foreman was staring at the name, his mouth pulled into a frown. Cameron's own eyes traveled back to the top of her page, looking at the name, normally the first thing she would've done. _James Wilson _stood out like a sore thumb, and Cameron fought off the tears that were forming in her eyes.

"Our patient is Dr. Wilson?" she asked, quietly.

"Duh." House replied, rolling his eyes, "Now, differential diagnosis please?"

"Um…." Chase muttered. Everyone was thinking it but no one dared to say it.

"Drugs?" Foreman questioned.

House paused for a moment, he hadn't even considered this. Wilson doesn't do drugs, he's the good boy. However, _everyone lies. Even Wilson._ "Good idea, I want a tox screen immediately."

The phone rang, and House glanced at the caller ID, then decided to shoo away his ducklings, "Why are you still here? Go."

As the three young doctors walked out of the office, House picked up the phone, "What Cuddy?"

"Just because Wilson is your case, doesn't mean you can get out of your clinic hours. Get to work." Cuddy ordered.

"But I'm doing a tox screen." House whined, trying to get out of it.

"No you're not, Cameron, Chase and Foreman always do that stuff."

_Damn._ House thought, trying to come up with another excuse. "But-"

"House, just get down to the clinic or you'll do double," Cuddy threatened.

House hung up the phone without another word and limped sourly towards the elevator. All too soon, the elevator arrived at the clinic and House found himself sitting in Exam Room One as the nurse called, "Samson, Caroline."

A girl in her late teens with long black curls and a frown walked into the exam room followed by her mother who shared the same black curls.

"She hasn't been menstruating." the mother said boldly.

"Mom!" the girl shrieked.

"Well, honey," Her mom soothed, "You would've had to tell him, that's why were here."

"Still… it's embarrassing." Caroline murmured.

House was irritated, and getting more irritated by the moment, "Have you had sex?"

"Well, of course, I mean, I have a daughter, and she is my daughter, we didn't adopt..." The mother prattled.

"Not you!" House said impatiently, "your daughter!"

"Of course she hasn't!" The mother replied angrily, "My angel would never do such a thing at her age…would you baby?"

Caroline looked away from her mother, a guilty look on her face.

"Pee in it," House said, handing her a small specimen bottle. He paused and handed her pregnancy stick as well. "Then stick this in it, wait three minutes, and come back and show it to me."

Confused, Caroline did as she was told, returning with a green stick.

"Yup. You're pregnant," House said idly.

"But…how?" Caroline asked, "It was my first time! You can't get pregnant the first time!"

"What idiot told you that--"

"You're pregnant? How can you be pregnant? You never should've had sex!" Mrs. Samson screeched interrupting House's snide commentary.

"He loves me and I love him and we'll do whatever we want!" Caroline shouted back.

"Not if I can help it!"

Shrill beeping cut through the argument before it could continue. House couldn't recall a moment where he'd been more grateful for the annoying piece of equipment he was forced to carry everywhere. "Sorry," he said, checking his pager. "Gotta go, emergency doctor things."

Once out of the exam room, House raced (well, as fast as a cripple can race) to the elevator and up to Wilson's room, fearing the worst.

"They're all going to get me House!" Wilson screamed as soon as he entered the room, "I'm going to die; I'm going to die..." Wilson repeated over and over.

"Wilson!" House said sternly, "You're not going to die," the heart monitor raced, signaling another heart attack. "C'mon, you know that. We're just trying to help."

Wilson's shoulders shook, and House knew he was trying not to cry, "It hurts so much House."

"Where does it hurt Wilson?" House asked gently, startling everyone in the room including him.

"Everywhere!" Wilson sobbed. "It hurts everywhere! My shoulder, my neck, my arms, my chest... It burns!"

House locked eyes with Wilson, trying not to let his guard down, he had to be the same old House for Wilson's sake. That was nearly impossible when he looked into his friend's eyes. Wilson's eyes showed fear, and House hated when Wilson was scared. "Wilson, listen. We're not going to hurt you, but we need to do the tox screen. If you don't believe me too damn bad, but you have to lie still!"

House motioned for Cameron to move forward and draw the blood. She did so nervously, but Wilson for his part stayed still. House watched the heart monitor, glancing at his watch every few seconds, Wilson's heart attacks were getting longer. That could not be a good sign. Momentarily, House glanced down at his friend, his good friend, his _only_ friend and imagined a world without him

_A world without Wilson._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Don't own anything. Oh, I do apologize if any of my facts are wrong, I'm not a doctor. Thanks to all the reviewers, and Kim!

"Tox screen was clean House." Cameron said, laying the results on his desk.

"Damn," House swore standing abruptly and limping out of his office into the hall only to be followed by his employees. He paced up and down the corridor, pausing every so often to rub his leg, which had been hurting more then usual.

"What would I do if this was a regular patient?" House asked after swallowing two Vicodin pills. He needed to act normal, and with Wilson being the patient-- that was difficult, he tried not to get to know the patients. His team members were silent for a few moments.

"It's okay," House said sardonically, "It's not as if someone's life depends on it."

"You'd make us check his house, and wherever he'd been recently." Chase said finally. "For metals, and things the tox screen can't find." House nodded.

"What else? What would we do if it was just someone we didn't know? Not Wilson, just a regular guy."

"Perform an EKG." Cameron suggested.

"Have him do a Stress Test." Foreman added.

"Alright." House said, "Three options, three of you people. Foreman and Chase do the Stress Test and the EKG. Cameron, go ask Wilson for the room key to the hotel he calls home."

Cameron glared, _Why me?_ Her expression screamed. If that had been a normal patient, what would House have done? He would've sent Cameron to the young, handsome man's hotel room, and she would've gone without complaint, but Wilson was different. Like it or not, they were all connected to House and therefore connected to Wilson.

"C'mon, I'll even ask him for you," House said, still smirking.

"Fine," Cameron hissed. "Let's go."

Cameron pushed violently on the button for the elevator, clearly upset about making this trip. House simply rolled his eyes at her back; this would be more embarrassing for Wilson than it would be for her. A_nd that's why it will be so much fun! _House thought gleefully following Cameron to Wilson's room.

"Hey Wilson!" House called as he entered the room, "Wilson!" he called again when there was no answer, then glanced at the heart monitor, to his relief the monitor's beep was steady. Wilson was just fast asleep. He reached out with his cane and poked Wilson in the ribs, "Wake up Wilson!"

"Don't do that!" Cameron chided, she walked closer to the bed, placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. Wilson eyes opened.

"What now, House?" he muttered groggily.

"Cameron needs your room key; she gets to search your room." House grinned evilly, "Don't worry, if she finds anything dirty she won't tell."

Wilson ignored House and looked at Cameron, "In the front pocket of my bag, over there." He pointed to the corner of the room and Cameron walked over, took the key and exited the room.

"Now for the fun part!" House announced, lowering himself into the chair beside Wilson's bed.

"What fun part?" Wilson questioned suspiciously.

"Where were you before you showed up at my apartment? Which bar exactly?" House asked.

"Um… the one we're usually at together… it's two blocks from your apartment. I don't remember the name." Wilson replied, worriedly.

"Right." House paused, "You walked two blocks while having a heart attack?"

Wilson nodded.

"Why didn't you just call 911?" House asked, knowing the answer already; a secret Wilson kept quiet

"I don't like strange doctors." Wilson replied, laughing at the irony of his sentence.

"Oh, good choice coming to me then, because I'm not strange or a doctor." House said shaking his head.

"No, you're definitely both." Wilson said, though clearly, he wasn't finished. He mumbled the last part, but House caught it anyway, "But you're also my friend."

House ignored Wilson's comment, "Right. What were you drinking?"

"Beer, lots of beer." Wilson answered.

"Damn." House swore, the beer would be gone by now, so he couldn't check if that was contaminated, "Why can't you drink something that isn't as popular?"

"Like what?" Wilson asked.

"Something non-alcoholic, like Coke, that would make it much easier to test." House informed him. "Because, unlike beer, the same Coke will still be there."

"Sorry?" Wilson offered.

"Yeah, yeah." House said, standing to leave. "Oh, Foreman and Chase have to have you do a Stress Test, and an EKG. Just in case you weren't poisoned." And with that last comment, House was out of the room and on his way to the hospital's front door.

Cuddy ambushed him just before he stepped outside. "Dr. House, you're twenty minutes late for clinic duty."

"Sorry, was with a patient." House apologized, not meaning it at all.

"House, watching General Hospital with Wilson in his room does not mean you're with a patient."

"Sure it does." House argued. "Wilson's a patient, my patient, and I was with him. I was with a patient." He explained, and then added, "Besides, General Hospital's not on for another hour."

"House, clinic." Cuddy pointed in the direction of exam room one.

"Okay, okay!" House said exasperated, and limped off to the exam room.

Twenty or so, pointless cases later House walked to the front doors of the hospital, where Cuddy was talking to an elderly looking man. "Can I go now?" House asked, like a five-year-old asking his mother to go outside. Cuddy excused herself, to answer House.

"Yes. You have ONE hour House, then you better be back here." Cuddy warned.

"Yes Mum!" House called back as he walked out into the parking lot, and got onto his motorcycle.

An hour and a half later, House returned and again, Cuddy was there. This time, no patients were around. This time, it looked as though she had been waiting for him. Though, unlike their conversation before, which had been light-hearted, House saw that Cuddy was pacing and running her hands through her hair.

"Don't you let me do anything by myself?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood, while being himself.

"Don't start House." Cuddy answered seriously, "Wilson's having another-"

House was already banging at the elevator button, in hopes that this would make the elevator come faster; when at last it did arrive House ran in, not giving time for the people who were trying to leave get out.

He mashed the button indicating the floor Wilson's room was on, scowling when the elevator wouldn't travel any faster. The doors slid open and he abandoned his cane, using the wall to run as quickly as possible to Wilson's bedside.

Foreman and Chase were both in the room and trying to hold Wilson still. "Dr. Wilson, you need to stay calm."

House was frozen; he was staring at the heart monitor, beeping too rapidly, tachycardia. He assumed that this had been going on for awhile as Wilson was covered in sweat and thrashing in pain. "Get him ativan now!" House yelled.

House watched Chase prepare the drug, and just before he could inject it, Wilson stopped struggling, and fell backwards limp.

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep_

The one drawn-out beep of the heart monitor drew House's attention back to it. It could mean only one thing, and House confirmed this with his glance, Wilson was flat lining.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Right. Well, this is the edited version...sorry it took so long, they are about 4 reasons...you can pick you're favourite!

a Kim's really lazy. And didn't feel like editing. [We're both procrastinators.

b We are easily, very easily, distracted, so it takes a long time to edit things...

c I had a cold. In the middle of Summer.

d A discussion about Cuddy's breasts started and we sort of drifted a bit off topic.

Actually, all of the above are true! Sorry for the wait, but six is done too!

Don't own House.

* * *

House shot into action, ignoring the stabbing pain in his leg as he grabbed the paddles off of the defibrillator. House performed the task multiple times, while Chase kept checking for a pulse.

"No pulse. Two minutes." Chase said, subdued. House ignored him, concentrating only on the task at hand. Another minute passed.

"House…" Foreman began.

"What?" House snapped, not bothering to look at him.

"Time of death?"

"Not today." House muttered, continuing to send the electricity through Wilson's body. The ticking of the clock told House that another two minutes had gone by.

"I've got a pulse." Chase told House. "Weak, but it is there."

House pushed the defibrillator out of his way and collapsed into the chair. He hissed in pain. _Better appreciate this, Wilson._ He thought. "We need to go back to the office. Think of anything else this could be."

Chase and Foreman both exited the room and had started down the hallway when they heard House's voice call, "Hello? Cripple without his cane!"

Looking reluctant, Foreman walked back and handed House his cane, which Chase had retrieved from the middle of the hallway. House stood and led the way towards the elevator. "I wonder if Cameron is back yet." He mused aloud. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed the bottle of pills and shook three into his hand, easily dry swallowing them.

The elevator doors opened and Cameron was waiting inside, "Speak of the devil." House said, as he walked into the elevator. "Did you find anything?" Cameron nodded.

"I found quite a few things." Cameron answered, "Dr. Wilson hasn't been very careful about hygiene lately."

That struck House as odd, Wilson was always immaculate. He even blow dried his hair! Honestly, what kind of man blow dries his hair? Why hadn't Wilson's place been spotless? He tried to remember if Wilson had been looking sick earlier in the week. House had been busy with a tough case and hadn't seen much of him, but the one time they managed to eat together, House had just put the symptoms off as a bad nights sleep.

"Get it to the lab." House said tiredly, "All of you, start testing things, if you don't find anything retest." The younger doctors nodded and left as House made his way to his desk. Sitting in his chair, House reached for his oversized tennis ball, and using his cane, started to smack it against the wall. With every rebound the smacks became louder and more dangerous until the final hit caused the ball to stray off course and knock over a lamp.

"Well, that's just fucking great." House said to himself, leaning over and picking up the shards of glass carelessly. He winced as a smaller shard wedged itself into his finger. Lifting his finger to eye level to examine it, he figured out was better than in, and searched for something to remove the jagged piece from his finger, as blood began to drip off his finger.

He was still searching as Cuddy walked in. "What have you done now House?" she sighed, looking at the drops of blood seeping into the paperwork strewn all over his desk.

"I got a booboo." He pouted, rolling his eyes. "I broke a lamp, be careful."

"Because that's exactly what you've been doing." Cuddy responded, expertly sidestepping the broken glass, "Give me your hand."

"Are you going to kiss it better?" House questioned cheekily.

"No. But I will get the glass out." Cuddy answered, pulling a pair of tweezers from the pocket of her lab coat. House held out his hand frowning. Quickly and efficiently Cuddy pulled out the offending object and tossed it in the garbage can. She then called a janitor to clean up the mess. Once the janitor had left, House waited for what she had come to say.

"Wilson's up and asking for you." She announced. "He wants to see you, but you haven't done your clinic duty yet. Off you go."

House stared at her, "Do you know why I wasn't at the clinic?" he asked disbelievingly.

"No." Cuddy replied, "I assumed that you were hiding-"

"Wilson flat lined." House told her, his eyes on the carpet. "It took five minutes for me to get him back. That's why I wasn't there."

Cuddy stood shocked, "Why wasn't I informed?" she asked.

"I hadn't gotten around to it." House shrugged.

"My Head of Oncology's dead for over three minutes and I'm not notified?" Cuddy asked angrily, "Do you honestly think I would've forced you to go down to the clinic if I had known? Let's go."

"Where?" House asked curious, as he stood and followed her out the door.

Cuddy didn't answer, so House had to guess, though he had a pretty good guess, since he had followed the same path many times in the last few hours. During the wait in the elevator House tapped his cane impatiently; he hadn't expected Wilson to awaken so soon after his near… no… not near, his death experience.

Cuddy slid open the door to find Wilson sitting up, thumbing through a page in a book someone had left on the table. "House…what happened?" Wilson asked, as he glanced at House's bloody finger.

"To you or to my finger?" House asked.

"Both." Wilson replied, without a second thought.

"I cut my finger on a piece of glass." House paused, forced to relive the fatal moment, not too long ago, "You died."

"I… what?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"Died, D-I-E-D." House answered, "You made me stand over you for five minutes before I could bring you back."

Wilson lay back, his eyes closed, letting this entirely new piece of information run through his mind. Cuddy walked to the opposite side of the bed, and laid a hand on Wilson's shoulder. She smiled, as he opened his eyes again. "It doesn't matter, you're back now." Wilson shook his head.

"It does matter." He insisted. "House, sit down, you're leg must be killing you."

House sank into the chair, while Cuddy wondered how Wilson knew that House's leg hurt more than usual. "You die, and all you can think about is my leg?" House teased.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Wilson said, "I'm a horribly good person."

Cuddy smiled as the friendly banter continued. She remained at Wilson's bedside, amazed at the bond House and Wilson seemed to share. Wilson sat up suddenly, his face paling; House stood, and was instantly leaning over his friend, as was Cuddy. "What is it Wilson?" Cuddy asked.

Wilson opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Wilson gagged and then vomited, splashing both Cuddy and House. Cuddy looked mildly grossed out, while House's glowering indicated he was going to explode soon.

"Wilson!" House complained, "This is my best shirt!"

"Oh shut up House!" Cuddy yelled, and then switching tones, she turned back to Wilson, "Are you okay?"

Wilson nodded weakly, "I think so." House was pulling off his vomit ridden jacket and shirt, something Cuddy didn't have the luxury of doing.

"Ew…" he said, "Cuddy, go change. If Wilson has something contagious, we both need showers as soon as possible. Since you can't stand here with your shirt off, without the rest of the male population of this hospital running in here, you get to shower first." Cuddy nodded, shooting a quick glance back at Wilson.

"I'm sorry." Wilson said softly.

"It's okay." Cuddy said, squeezing his shoulder gently, before exiting the room.

"I can't rule out infection, yet." House said thoughtfully, "Do you have a fever?"

Wilson shrugged and House sighed, knowing that there was a thermometer somewhere in the room, but finding it could take hours. He laid the back of his hand on Wilson's forehead, and when Wilson looked up in shock he just shrugged, "Can't find the thermometer and you don't have a fever." He quickly removed his hand.

"So…no infection?" Wilson asked.

"I'm still not positive, but I don't think so." House answered.

Wilson frowned, "If it's not toxins or an infection…what is it?" _Everybody lies._ Wilson repeated House's mantra in his head, preparing himself for whatever lie House was about to cook up.

"I don't know."

* * *

Later, Wilson thinks he likes it better when House lies. 


	6. Chapter 6

A'N: I warn you now, this is a cliff hanger!!! Oh, but I have special game for you. The first person to guess where I got the name of Wilson's date [**HINT  from another TV show** can be my next clinic patient. Just tell me a little about yourself in your review. Also, the clinic patient in this chapter is based on what my friend Rose would be like meeting Hugh Laurie. She really would act that way, she's a little bit nuts.

As always, many thanks to Kim, Rose and all my reviewers and I do not, never have, and never will own House.

One more thing, I am going to New York, so you probably won't have an update about...2-3 weeks, possible longer as school starts soon. Ew. Alright, on with the show.

* * *

House sat in his office, again tossing his ball against the wall, this time making sure no breakable objects were in the way. He had sent his team home just a few minutes ago, as they had tested and retested everything with inconclusive results. Cuddy knocked on the glass door and let herself in.

"Go home, House," She told him, even though she knew he wouldn't be leaving the hospital tonight.

"I will. Just another hour or so, gotta go bug Wilson," House lied.

"Okay," Cuddy said, "Call me if you need anything, I'm going home." House nodded, and Cuddy left the room. Minutes later, House did the same, heading towards Wilson's room.

"I'm heading home, now," House lied, as he entered the room.

"Okay," Wilson responded. "I still don't have a fever,"

"I'm pretty sure it's not an infection," House told him, looking at a point directly above Wilson's head. "We'll figure it out," He assured.

"I'm sure you will," Wilson smiled. "If not-"

"Don't talk like that!" House cut him off. "You're gonna be fine."

"House…" Wilson spoke seriously, and then trailed off. "Never mind." House raised his eyebrows.

"Alright then, 'night Wilson," He said exiting the room.

"'Night House, Wilson called after him. "And don't sleep in a chair again; use the couch in my office."

* * *

House awoke that morning, though it was closer to noon, on Wilson couch, his leg very sore. He swore loudly, reaching for his cane. _Just in time for lunch with Wilson._ House thought._ Oh crap. Maybe I can sneak him out._

House headed out the door, and walked straight into Cuddy. "Clinic, or you'll do triple next week."

"But-"

"No excuses House," Cuddy said firmly. As she walked away House's stomach let out a loud growl. He frowned and headed toward the clinic. He couldn't be hungry now; lunch could wait. The faster he handled the patients in the clinic, the faster he could grab lunch.

A tired-looking teenager with chin-length hair, rectangular glasses, and blue-grey eyes walked in as the nurse called, "Morrison, Rose."

She began speaking right away, "Are you Dr. House? I've heard all about you! I'm your biggest fan!" She then started to cough.

House raised his eyebrows. "You're my biggest fan? I'm a doctor not a jock."

"Oh, I know! But, I heard you were so cool, one of my friends was here, and she was sick-" House tuned her out. He was busy studying her, trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

She was flushed, that meant fever. She kept massaging her temple, headache. Dry cough. And even in the warmth of the clinic she was shivering, she had the chills. Obviously the flu, but House had an idea. He walked to the phone and dialed the number to Wilson's room.

It rang, once, twice, and then Wilson's voice answered, "House?"

"Yeah, I need a consult. In exam room one," House told him.

"What? Your patient has cancer?" Wilson asked.

"I don't know. That's why I want a consult," House sighed; he glared at the staring girl.

"But…House… I can't leave the room. I'm suffering heart attacks."

"Only when you're lying down with the exception of the first one. Getting up might just be the best thing for you," House said.

"What if Cuddy catches me?" Wilson questioned.

"Then don't get caught," House said patronizingly. He heard the phone click and knew Wilson was on his way. Wilson would never ignore a patient. He was too noble.

"So, um…what's wrong with me?" The girl asked. House stared at her; she hadn't even stopped talking when he was on the phone.

"Well, I'm not sure, so I had to call another doctor for a consult." House lied.

"But… you're the best; if you don't know then it must be something serious right?" Rose asked, nervously.

House rolled his eyes ignoring her, and watching the clock. Wilson burst through the door, "Sorry, had to take a detour, Cuddy was there." He turned to Rose, "Hi, I'm Dr. Wilson, Oncologist."

"Oncologist? Does that mean I have cancer? I can't have cancer!"

"Oh, relax." House said, impatiently, "You have the flu, go home, get some rest, and drink a lot of water. You'll be fine in a few days."

"She has the flu?" Wilson asked incredulously, "Then… why did you call me?"

"We haven't had lunch together recently, let's g,." House said as headed out of the room.

"I'm so sorry," Wilson apologized. "Here," He grabbed the prescription pad that lay on the counter, "This will help you get some sleep and hopefully get rid of that cough."

The girl stared at the messy signature in awe. "This is your signature…and you know Dr. House."

"I'm his best friend." Wilson replied.

"I have a signature from Dr. House's best friend, it's almost as good as Dr. House's signature." The girl said to herself.

"Wilson, you are coming right?" House's voice called.

"Yeah…" Wilson said, exiting the room, leaving the girl staring at the paper.

"Bank right!" House ordered, shoving Wilson around a corner.

"House, where are you going?" Cuddy asked.

"Lunch," House replied simply.

Cuddy glanced at her watch, "You have one hour."

"Okay." House rounded the corner, "Go, go, go." He whispered to Wilson, shoving him into the direction of the cafeteria. When they arrived in the cafeteria and began to serve themselves Wilson puzzled face told House that he was wondering how House was going to pay, as Wilson had nothing on him.

"Together." House told the cafeteria worker, and pulled out a wallet, a wallet that Wilson thought looked very familiar, and then he knew why it looked familiar. As they sat down at the table Wilson spoke, "You _stole_ my wallet?"

"Yeah. Why did you think I was paying?"

Wilson shook his head, choosing not to dignify House with a response…until his curiosity got the better of him. "How did you steal it?"

"Last night, I took it out of your bag. You didn't even notice." House answered. "Now, I need to know everything you did on the night of your first heart attack, you said something about girl problems, and did you sleep with her?"

"No." Wilson said dejectedly, "We didn't even kiss, Honoria-"

"Her name's Honoria?" House jeered.

"Shut up, House!" Wilson countered. "Anyway, Honoria and I were talking and drinking when all of a sudden, I noticed that I had drunk a little too much, I made a horrible pass at her, and she slapped me and stormed out. I drowned my sorrows in more beer. Everything after that is a bit blurry, I remember starting to feel sick and I remember knocking on your door, and then waking up in the ambulance and again at the hospital."

"Her name's Honoria?" House repeated.

"Shut up!" Wilson hissed. "Just shut up! I thought we were trying to figure out why I'm sick."

"You obviously have some sort of neurological problem if you date someone named Honoria." House teased, "But, she didn't sleep with you and you don't remember most of the night, so, it's really not helpful."

"I do not have a neurological problem." Wilson protested, "She was a very nice woman." Then Wilson got quiet, his face began to pale, he pointed over House's shoulder, and House turned around to see Cuddy standing there.

"We are so dead." Wilson muttered, head in his hands. "She's gonna kill us."

"No." House disagreed, "Just me. You're sick; she'll cut you some slack."

The sound of heels on a tiled floor, increased in volume and speed, and before anyone knew what was going on, Cuddy had grabbed Wilson roughly and was marching him back to his room. House started to follow, but when he reached for his cane he found nothing there. He looked up at Cuddy's retreating form, and blanched when he saw the cane swinging from her free hand.

* * *

House had finally made it to the elevator; he had taken six Vicodin pills along the way and it had taken him ten minutes. He knew Cuddy would be in Wilson's room, berating him for listening to House. So, he pressed the button in the elevator, and leaned heavily against the wall. Finally, it seemed like hours later, House managed to limp into Wilson's room. He took his cane which was leaning against the bed, where Wilson was now sleeping. 

"What did you do?" House asked Cuddy who was sitting in the chair beside Wilson's bed.

"Gave him a sedative and told him he better stay in here if he wants to keep his job," Cuddy replied.

"You didn't have to take my cane," House complained.

"You didn't have to lure Wilson out of his room. He's sick House," Cuddy said, standing. As she stood the chair she had been sitting on tipped over clattering on the hard floor.

"I know; I am his doctor," House said.

"But you're not acting like it," Cuddy muttered scathingly.

"He doesn't suffer heart attacks when his moving arou-" House stopped, and taking off as fast as he could ran back to his department, where all of his ducklings were waiting. Cuddy was left standing alone in the middle of an argument.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Sorry for the incredibly long wait, there was New York and School…and no one answered the question. Probably because you were all thinking of a character you actually see in the TV show and a show with Hugh Laurie. I must check out that show now.

However, the character I was thinking of was never seen, only heard, on MASH, she was Major Charles Emerson Winchester the Third's sister, Honoria. It's another old TV show I love.

I plan on having almost a whole chapter of clinic patients, so if you want to be in and answered the question Jeeves and Wooster, just let me know. If you haven't answered a question but still want to be in the next chapter, answer the question at the end of this chapter.

Once again, very, very sorry for the long, long, long wait…. I love you all for reviewing!

**Chapter 7**

House scrambled into his office, finding Cameron was sitting at the desk rereading the file "What causes multiple heart attacks?" he asked simply.

"Angina…but we already ruled-" Chase said from his spot on the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" House interrupted, "but how many types of angina are there?"

"Three." Cameron replied instantly.

"List them." House said.

"Stable, Unstable and Variant…" Cameron listed.

"And these three types, when do the heart attacks usually occur?" House asked impatiently.

"Stable occurs during exercise, and unstable occurs randomly." Cameron continued.

"…And?" House prompted.

"Variant angina occurs usually during rest." Foreman finished walking over from the coffee machine, and House swore he could almost see the light flick on above Chase's head.

"So, all Wilson needs is some drugs. Then we can be pill-popping buddies together." House said as he shook two Vicodin pills into his hand and put them into his mouth dry swallowing. "Who wants to tell him the good news?" House asked.

All of his ducklings looked pointedly at him. House whined, "Why me? Can't I call Cuddy?"

"Why would you call me?" Cuddy asked as she walked through the open door.

"Wilson's cured, you want to tell him?" House questioned hopefully, "He has variant angina," he added thoughtfully.

Cuddy looked at House, "Why won't you tell him? Isn't he your best friend?"

"He claims he is." House muttered grumpily as he stomped off toward the elevator.

Once inside the elevator, House waited impatiently, tapping his cane irritatingly against the wall. The elevator seemed to be taking its sweet time when suddenly it made a horrible screeching noise and slammed to a halt. House stumbled backwards, and cursed. The elevator was stuck in between floors. House rang the emergency bells and then slid onto the floor, stretching his leg out against the wall. Who knew how long he would be stuck here. "Shit!"

At the worst moment possible House's pager beeped loudly. House gazed at in horror as Wilson's room number flashed across the screen, "FUCK!" _Not now! Not now! _He thought desperately.

Cuddy dashed into Wilson's room, staring at the rapidly beating monitor before speeding into action. Wilson was still conscious and was having another anxiety attack. Cuddy knew she would not be able to calm him down.

"I'm going to die!" Wilson shouted. "I can't die! I can't!"

_Why wasn't House here?_ She wondered, as she struggled over what to do. "Wilson," she said gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

He threw it off, screaming. It was clear that he was terrified. "Help! Help!" He thrashed and ripped an IV line out of his left forearm.

Cuddy reached out to reattach the line. Wilson slapped her hand away. "No. Don't touch me! No one touch me! House!" he cried, "Where's House?" he asked looking terrified, "What's wrong? Why isn't House here?"

"Someone go find House!" Cuddy ordered.

A nurse ran out of the room quickly, "The rest of you out!" Cuddy snapped. "Now!"

Anyone else who had been in the room scattered, and Cuddy finally managed to grab some ativan and sighed as the monitor started to return to normal, and Wilson breathing returned to even breaths. Cuddy turned her back for a moment, to write something on the clipboard, and was surprised when she heard a slight sob.

"Where's House?" Wilson repeated quietly.

Cuddy hesitated, but decided that this was not the time for her to lie, "I don't know."

"But…his leg, do you know if he's okay?" Wilson asked as his heart rate started to rise again.

"Wilson, stop it." Cuddy said, grabbing his shoulder forcefully. "I'm sure House is fine. You however, have variant angina."

"Variant angina... That's it?" Wilson asked.

"What do you mean that's it?" Cuddy asked. "Don't you understand what this means? You'll be unable to live by yourself." Wilson shrugged, "You'll have to take pills every day, be careful of the risk of addiction to these pills."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Addiction? I'm not House." Wilson looked around. "Where is he anyway?"

"I said I don't know, last thing I heard he was going to tell you what you had. Next thing I know my pagers going off because you're having a heart attack and House is nowhere to be found. The last place I saw House was as he entered the elevator." Cuddy explained.

Wilson furrowed his brow, "He's stuck." He almost laughed, "In the elevator."

Cuddy walked into the hall and looked towards the elevator a crew of technicians were frantically working on fixing something as the all too familiar tap-tap-tap, the relentless banging of a cane against the ceiling of the elevator. She leaned back into Wilson's room, "You're right." She said, smiling. "The techs are working on it, he's fine, probably banging because he doesn't know you are."

Wilson reached for the hospital phone that lay beside the bed and dialled House's cell.

The ringing of House's phone made him stop ramming his cane into the top of the elevator. He searched his pockets for his phone, and found it. "What?!" he answered.

"Hello House." Wilson's voice said. "Cuddy says the techs are almost finished with the elevator."

"Tell her to tell them it's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic it's been almost a half-hour." House replied, "Also tell them that this elevator has crappy timing and should never break down when your be- patient is having a heart attack," House could almost hear Wilson's smile; he knew Wilson had caught the slip-up.

Suddenly, the elevator jolted and continued its way up. House almost cheered, "They fixed it." He told Wilson, "I'll see you in a minute," he hung up as the elevator doors opened; he glared at the technicians and limped down to Wilson's room.

Cuddy passed him on his way in, "So, you need about 5 days of heparin medication… and nitroglycerin intravenously for long time care…after that Aspirin or Clopedigrol." House informed Wilson. "Pills for the rest of your life…"

Wilson nodded, "Cuddy says there's more to it."

"Not much," House said, shrugging and sitting. He put his left foot up onto to the railing bed and carefully lifted his left and crossed them. "Let me inform you of what you have missed over the last few days."

"Anything interesting?" Wilson asked.

"Loads," House answered. "But not quite as cool as your time here."

"Fill me in." Wilson said.

**A/N: **Alright, hope you liked it! Please review! Question for new people to answer, what 1999 children's movie did Hugh Laurie play a role in?

I certainly believe the next and probably last chapter will be up much sooner!


	8. Chapter 8

House yawned and checked his watch

**A/N: **I like where this ended so, I don't think I want to continue, however, I'm always up for suggestion of new stories, especially Wilson-centric ones. I'd like to thank Kim and Rose, as well as all of you who reviewed, and apologize profusely for the huge wait.

I still don't own House.

Sorry for any medical mistakes, as I am not a doctor, and super sorry for the possible grammar/spelling mistakes… I think this chapter is only half edited..

**Chapter 8**

House was on his way to Wilson's room, with the intent of getting some lunch, when he spotted Cuddy. He waved to her, and called, "On my way down to the clinic!" then slipped into the thankfully empty elevator.

The elevator stopped on the previously indicated floor and House followed the now familiar path to Wilson's room. He approached Wilson, who was dozing in his bed, and with no Cameron around to scold him, poked Wilson in the ribs with his cane. Wilson's eyes fluttered open drowsily. "What House?" he asked.

"Up. You have to start walking around today." House informed Wilson. "Slowly though, because I am in no condition to catch you if you fall."

Wilson struggled into a sitting position and swung his legs carefully over the side of the bed. He stood with some difficulty and together they made their way out of the room. They were nearly at the end of the hall before House noticed that he was ahead of Wilson. He let Wilson catch up and then furrowed his brow; he wasn't used to having to match his pace to Wilson's. House wondered how much Wilson slowed his normal pace to walk with the same strides as House.

"So, I take it you have clinic duty?" Wilson said, "And you're going to get me to do it."

House glances at Wilson, pretending to be astonished at his mind-reading abilities. House rolls his eyes, "What else?" He notices that Wilson is smiling. He's moving along at a slow, but steady pace, and he must still be a little uncomfortable on his feet, but he's smiling. "Why're you grinning?" House asked.

Wilson shakes his head, it doesn't matter, he just happy to be alive.

House sat in the chair, meant for parents, spouses, or friends. Wilson stood looking the patients chart. The girl sat on the bed. "You're an athlete…Yza? Is it EE-zah?"

House rolled his eyes, who cares how you say the name? You'll speak to the person for 10 minutes at the most. You're not supposed get a family history.

"It's pronounced EE-sah." The light-brown haired girl replied. "And yes, I am an athlete."

"You're having problems throwing and soreness in your shoulder area?" Yza nodded. "I think you've pulled a muscle in your shoulder." Slowly Wilson moved around to the girls back and gently massaged her shoulder.

She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out in pain. "Aha, right there." Wilson said, "I'm going to prescribe some minor painkillers, and recommend you to our physiotherapist." Wilson scribbled his signature onto the pad and handed Yza the slip.

"Thanks." She grinned, "When will I be able to throw again?"

"Not for about a month… unless you plan on becoming left-handed," Wilson warned.

She left smiling and House shook his head. "Why are you nice to them?" he asked.

"Unlike you, some people actually enjoy making other people happy." Wilson said, "I happen to be one of them," he left the room for a moment to get the next patient file.

He returned with three people, two guys and a girl, cradling her left wrist carefully. She also had a small but deep cut, on her right calf. The boy with spiky black hair was repeating how sorry he was. "Ray, I'll be okay." The girl said. The other companion was shaking his head ruefully.

"You know, we had this under control. You didn't have to jump into the fray." He chided.

"I helped you!" the girl replied, and House grinned noticing that she wearing a superman baseball cap.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to tackle Ray to get him out of the way, and then proceed to get yourself injured in the process." PJ replied. "We're supposed to be helping the injured, not creating more injured people."

Wilson smiled at all of them, and extended a hand to both males. "Paramedics, I take it?"

"Yeah." The red-haired girl replied. "We were breaking up a stabbing, and I jumped on him," she jerked her head towards the dark haired person, Ray, "and hurt my wrist. It's probably broken."

"Let me clean and bandage your cut, and we'll send you down to x-ray, after I check your wrist." Wilson smiled at her. He cleaned and bandaged the wound, expertly and then nodded towards her arm. She held out her wrist obediently, Wilson gently pressed his fingers to different points on girl's wrist, he watched as she winced with each touch. "Yeah, definitely broken, and in probably more than one place." He handed her a slip of paper and pointed her in the right direction.

"God, I can't watch you be nice any longer!" House moaned. "It's sickening… and I'm hungry."

Wilson glanced at his watch. "One more patient then we can have lunch at noon… okay?"

House frowned but nodded, sinking back into his chair. Wilson glanced at the next file and poked his head out the door, calling out, "Adaire, Sara."

Two girls walked in smiling, one was dark brown with blonde streaked haired and looked worried the other one had reddish brown hair, was wearing a shirt that displayed what Wilson assumed was one of her favourite bands. The redhead looked like she was nodding her head to the music, she was arguing with the person who accompanied her, "I'm fine Cady, really, I feel like skateboarding… or we could go see that new horror flick! I'm feeling fine; I'm ready to have some fun!"

"Mhm..." the darker haired girl nodded, leading her friend to the seat. "She has a fever of 103 and I was just wondering if there was anything you could do for her. I think she's a bit delirious."

Wilson smiled at the Sara and said, "Hello."

"Hi!" She replied and then crinkled her nose. "Do you wanna come see the movie with me?"

Wilson heard House snort, and his sniggers as he tried to think of an appropriate answer, "No, but thank you, I'm not really a horror movie fan." He continued to examine the girl, while her eyes widened in surprise.

"But everyone loves horror films." The girl covered her face and sneezed. "Oh man. I must be allergic to something in here."

"She's not allergic to anything," her friend informed Wilson, "She's got a cold."

Wilson nodded. Sara smiled dazedly, as he finished up, "You're sick Sara."

She shook her head, "No! I'm not really! I feel fit as a fiddle!" Wilson then turned toward Cady, "She's got a cold, with a really bad fever, this should help bring her fever down," he handed Cady a slip, "And make sure she gets lots of rest and liquid. Here's my pager number if she gets any worse, but I think her fever will break soon."

"Well, that's it." Wilson said, filling in the last detail on his files.

"Lunch time," House announced.

"Do you still have my wallet?" Wilson questioned. "Cause if you do, I'm pretty sure we can't buy lunch, as I'll be broke."

"I'd never steal from you!" House said, "At least not money. Food is different." Then he handed Wilson his wallet. After purchasing their lunches they made their way to sit at the tables. Wilson picked nervously at his food, he kept opening his mouth to say something, then closing it, and it was driving House insane. "Spit it out already." House growled.

Wilson closed his eyes, took a deep shaky breath and said, "As soon as I'm discharged, I'm resigning and moving back home."

"Why?" House asked, curious.

"Because Cuddy told me that I couldn't live by myself now, and she's right, I'm going to need someone to live with me in case I suffer another heart attack and I have no family here." Wilson said, locking eyes with House. "I don't have anywhere to stay, in Princeton."

House rolled his eyes, "You are an idiot!" he half-shouted.

"Listen, House, I'm sorr-" Wilson began.

"Don't apologize idiot! You don't have to quit! You'll have a place to stay." House insisted.

"Are you… inviting me to stay with you?" Wilson asked incredulously.

House sighed audibly, "Don't turn this into something mushy. You have to write my scripts. Who's going to get me Vicodin if you've moved away?"

"Cuddy would." Wilson answered, "House, are you sure? Do you remember what happened last time?"

"Yeah, well…" House paused, "I need pills, and you need a roommate, so we might as well… help each other." House cringed at the end of his sentence.

"Thanks."

"Whatever. Now that you're fine, I really must ask, where did you meet a girl named Honoria?" House questioned smirking.

"Well, you see, I was shopping."

"People shop?"

"People who don't live off peanut butter and canned soup shop for vegetables and things." Wilson said.

"That's what you're for." House countered.

"Well anyway…"

That night, Cuddy let Wilson leave the hospital; he packed up his stuff, and got ready to leave. House was waiting at the door for him, "You ready to go, Wilson?" he asked. "Wait, did you get your drugs?"

"I took my pills, House." Wilson grinned, "Stop worrying,"

"I'm not worried." House lied, "Let's just go."

"Can we stop at the hotel first?" Wilson asked. "I need to grab my things."

"Do it in the morning. Right now, I need you to cook some food while we drink beer and watch bad movies. So, let's go."

"Okay." Wilson agreed, and they left, this time, House made sure to walk a little slower than normal, so that their paces matched. When they arrived at House's apartment, Wilson travelled immediately to the kitchen, while House sat at his piano, fingers dancing gracefully across the keys.

Banter and arguments, Wilson cooks, House eats. They'd annoy each other to no end, but since House could not imagine a world without Wilson, he'd struggle through it. This was simply the way their weird, twisted, friendship worked. This was how things should be.


End file.
